She planted her hands on her hips. “So, ye admit I’m right?”
“I admit,” he said slowly, “that ye’ve managed tae maneuver me intae a corner. But I must remind ye that we are married. And married people sleep in the same bed.”
“It’s still improper.”
“Fer who?” he countered softly. “The saints? The stones? The fleas in the furs?”
“Baird!” she hissed his name, mortified.
He smiled in that slow, dangerous manner that made her pulse stumble.
“Davina… nay one will think ill of ye fer sleeping beside yer husband.”
“I will,” she whispered.
That halted him. “Ye think ill of me already?”
“Nay!” Her voice jumped an octave. “I mean, I think… I think ye fluster me on purpose.”
“Aye,” he murmured. “I dae.”
She blinked, taken aback by his honesty. “Why?”
“Because it makes ye drop the mask.” His voice gentled. “And I like seeing the real ye.”
Her breath stilled. It wasn’t fair that such simple words could unravel her so cleanly.
He took another careful step, close enough that the firelight cut soft gold along his cheekbone.
“Davina… the bed is large. We’ve nay need tae touch, if that’s what worries ye.”
The way he said her name made her insides clench, then release upon a tidal wave of warmth.
“It isnae.”
His brow lifted. “It isnae?”
She cursed her own mouth. “I mean, itis.” Then, she whispered more to herself. “A wee bit.”
He bit back a smile. “We can stay on our own sides.”
Davina hesitated, her heartbeat tripping wildly. He wasn’t mocking her now. He was trying to show her that she would be safe.
“I promise ye,” he said quietly, “I’ll nae cross the line.”
She exhaled slowly. He meant it. She could see that.
And the floorwascold. And shewasexhausted. And…
She lifted her chin. “Very well.”
“Very well?” he repeated.
“Dinnae make me say it twice,” she muttered.
It was ridiculous.
It was dangerous.
